


Terror

by Trash



Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: ALL THE GOOD STUFF, Angst, Infidelity, M/M, terorrism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 17:39:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18299000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: They go to New York to fix their relationship. They never stood a chance.





	Terror

New York. The place to be for Christmas, New Years, all those other holidays Kyle always fucking hated. Dan isn’t a big fan either, but they’re trying to make this relationship work. They need this.

Infidelity, it seems, fucks up what was once true love and “We’ll live forever, young as we are.”

But Charlie was irresistible, and Kyle was drunk. Dan was in the studio constantly. It all made so much sense at the time.

But now they are walking the streets of New York, the cold bitter and their breath clouding the air in front of them. Kyle holds out a gloved hand for his boyfriend to take.

Dan sighs, loudly, and Kyle rolls his eyes, “I’m trying, okay?”

“I know,” Dan murmurs, “I know.”

They push through the crowd and Kyle digs his hands deep into his pockets, blinks back tears. The count down isn’t far away. Do they kiss? Do they not? Has he fucked this all up beyond repair?

The countdown begins and Dan shouts over the noise of the crowd, “I love you, okay, arsehole? But you’re not forgiven. You’ve got a lot more work to do.”

And they kiss, the cold and the crowd and the cheering fading to black.

And then the bomb goes off.

***

Petrol, nails, gas canisters and a religious freak with a God to appease. That’s what Kyle hears when he wakes up. He opens his eyes and stares at the white ceiling, strip lights blinding him instantly.

And he can’t breathe.

He remembers the noise, startling and rendering him deaf. He can’t hear the screams, but he can feel the pain, his entire body on fire and he looks up, blood and nails and fire raining down on them.

And Dan beside him, collapsing against him. The pair of them, their bodies folding and falling to the cold ground. Nails and blood and teeth and then the sound comes back and Dan, the noises he’s making have Kyle wishing he was deaf again.

There’s nails in his arms making them heavy, puncturing tendons and ligaments in his hands. He wants to stroke Dan’s face, wants to ask where he’s hurt but there’s a nail in his cheek.

Then he blacked out.

He tries to sit up, but he can’t push himself upright. He looks down and gawps, can’t scream for the pain in his throat. A doctor hurries over stuttering, “Th-the nails…the infection spread so quickly. We had to get the nails out of your head first. And, and your arms…”

He turns his head away, doesn’t want to hear it. “Where’s Dan?” He asks.

***

Later that day a doctor pushes him along a narrow corridor in a wheel chair and into a room where the sound of monitors beeping are the only things to be heard.

Dan, he’s lying in the bed, his face wrapped in gauze to hide the holes where the nails hit.

Brain dead, they said. 

You’re his emergency contact, they told him. It’s your decision to pull the plug. Or not to. 

Choose.

He chooses to go back in time and not let Charlie fuck him. He chooses to fix all of his mistakes. They’d have never gone to New York for New Year if it weren’t for his fuck up. He chooses to do it all again, and love Dan like he should have.

And he chooses to pull the plug.

And he cries until the doctor comes to wheel him back to his room.


End file.
